Leslie feels grimy, so she goes to take a shower. She puts her hair up in a bun before getting in so it’ll only get minimally wet, and then she steps into the steaming hot water. She turns the nozzle to the ‘massage’ setting and lets the water beat on her aching back. After she is done, she steps out and puts on a pair of jeans and an Obama sweatshirt. She quickly dries her hair and then returns to the laptop. She knows she should do more research, but she is burnt out.
“Break into the rose.” Leslie stares at the words John had said in her dream. “Rose, as in Rose Duffy?” Of course! John had prepared a packet of information to be sent to Leslie in case of his death, so logic tells Leslie that he probably sent one to Rose, too. Jealousy flares inside Leslie, but she tamps it down. This is not the time to get emotional—she will deal with all that shit later. She picks up the hotel phone and calls her cabby. It’s time for a spot of B&E.
“Stay here,” Leslie tells her cabby as she steps out of the taxi. She had him park a block away, and he had asked no questions. He nods and pulls out Dickens again. The sun is nowhere to be seen, and there is a definite chill to the air. Leslie walks towards the house and sees—no cops. She blinks. No cops? What the hell? They should be crawling all over the place, but no. The yellow crime scene is up, but there are no cops in sight. Leslie goes around the house to the back door. She rattles it, and it’s locked. However, the lock is a cheap one, and Leslie is able to open it with her credit card and a lot of jiggling. She slips in and takes a quick look around. The house is devoid of much of anything. The walls are white, gray, and steel-blue. There is a harshness to the atmosphere that is oppressive. Leslie shrugs it off and heads for the stairs. She knows she doesn’t have much time, and she has a hunch that anything Rose has is hidden on the second floor.
Upstairs is more of the same in terms of décor. There is little furniture in any of the rooms, and no photographs. No knickknacks, no mementos, no sign that anyone actually lives in the house. Leslie shivers at the coldness. Her own house is not very cozy, but at least she has a few personal touches. And, she has Josephine. Josephine. A wave of homesickness rolls over Leslie, and it surprises her. She is not someone who is very attached to any place, but she suddenly wishes she was at home in her living room, watching the news, and cuddling Josephine on her lap. She pushes that thought to the back of her mind as heads to Rose’s bedroom. Once inside, she stops and stares. The room is done in mauve, dusty rose, and salmon pink. The bed has red satin sheets on it. There are yellow roses on the bedside table, along with a battered stuffed bear who looks like he has a tale or two to tell. Apparently, all of Rose’s personality had been poured into her bedroom—her sanctuary. Leslie is more sure than ever that whatever John had sent Rose is hidden in this room.
Leslie pulls on her leather gloves and starts searching the room. She feels guilty for rifling through Rose’s belongings, but it has to be done. Leslie’s frustration mounts as she searches dressers and drawers and closets. She can’t find anything, and she is this close to screaming. She thumps her hand on the bedside table, accidentally hitting the teddy bear sitting there. She frowns because he is lumpy in a way that a bear should not be. She picks him up, turns him around, and sees a thick seam in the back that does not match the rest of the stitching. She laughs when she remembers that John had told her to ‘bear it in mind’. He had always been one for a bad pun. Leslie is about to try to undo it when she hears a noise below. She freezes for a minute before stuffing the bear into her purse and rushing to the door. She creeps outside and towards the stairs. She hears a noise in the kitchen which is between her and the front door. The back door, the one in which she came, however, is directly below the stairs. If she is quick and quiet, she should be able to escape unnoticed. She tiptoes down the stairs as fast as she can, thankful that she is not wearing heels. She races out the back door and runs to the cab.
By 10:13:15 p.m., Leslie is yawning nonstop. She has taken a break from the case because her mind is on overload. Now, she needs to sleep. She emails Siobhan with her most recent update, and then she heads to the bathroom to perform her ablutions. She is falling asleep as she brushes her teeth, so she decides to forego taking a shower—she can do it in the morning. She goes back to the bedroom, strips off her clothes, sets the alarm, and then lies down on the bed. She is out before she can even close her eyes.
“Hello?” Michael picked up his phone without looking to see who had called him. It was seven-thirty at night, and he was still at the office. He knew he had to get home soon or his wife would bitch at him for deserting her in her time of need. Then, he would get pissed because he worked so hard during the day, didn’t he deserve a little relaxation at home? But, he would feel guilty about it because his wife was having such a difficult pregnancy and because of her miscarriages.
“God, this is boring,” Leslie mutters as she sits in the back of Judge Anthony’s courtroom. She is not paying any attention to the trial. She knows it’s some kind of manslaughter charge, but that’s it. She watches Judge Anthony, trying to discern what type of judge he might be. Folly, really, as if she could tell by sitting in his courtroom during a trial. She nods off several times as the attorneys drone on and on and on. Finally, the judge calls for a recess. Leslie wonders if she can catch the judge in his chambers. Doubtful. She’s pretty sure that she can’t. She thinks for a minute before she walks outside the courtroom, cell phone in hand. She pulls out her list and calls the judge.
“Damn it, Reynolds, tell me what the fuck is going on with the Robertson case, and tell me now.” Chief Matthews bellowed at Detective Reynolds, a twenty-year veteran who still had a thirst for justice, despite his years on the force.
After saying goodbye, Leslie hangs up the phone. She ponders what she should do next. She writes down all the private cell phone numbers of the main suspects and family (including a few she doesn’t recognize. Jill Brewster? Tommy Legato? Parker Young? Who the fuck are these people?) from John’s files and stuffs the list in her purse. She is not sure she’ll need them, but she would rather have them and not need them than vice-versa. She decides a real disguise is in order. She hails her cabbie (who offers to run a tab for her as long as she needs one), and he takes her to the nearest Target. Leslie is boycotting Target since the CEO gave money to that batshitcrazy idiot, Tom Emmer, in his bid for governor of Minnesota, but this is an emergency. She needs a wig, and she knows they have them. She picks up a blonde “Marcia Brady” wig, some oversized sunglasses, a fitted gray sweater with nine buttons that she can wear under her jacket, and taupe jeans. She buys some thermal unders so she can layer properly and stay warm. She also purchases a pair of scissors so she can change in the bathroom. It takes her fifteen minutes total, and then she is on her way to the cop shop—after convincing her cabbie that it really is her and not some blonde bimbo.
Back in the hotel room, Leslie powers up her computer and flips on the TV as well. She wants to see what the press is saying about the disappearance of Rose, if anything. On the face of it, one random disappearance doesn’t get much air play, especially if the victim isn’t a pretty young white girl. However, with Rose’s connection to Senator Robertson (however tangential), Leslie has a hunch that the local news will at least pay lip-service to the case. She is right. The news gives the bare bones of the situation and hint that the disappearance may be connected to the murder of Amy Robertson, daughter of Senator Robertson, roughly a year ago. None of them offer any evidence of such a connection, but nobody cares about facts these days. Ratings were all that mattered, and a senator’s daughter’s murder added ratings to any story.
Leslie presses her forehead to the window of the cab, feeling the tears gather in her eyes. Even when John was tough on her, he was still so full of love. He did it because he believed in her. He believed with all his might that Leslie would get better, that she would heal from her past. Every time she said she was ruined and broken, he would say she was damaged, but not broken. It was as if thought he could heal her by the sheer force of his beliefs. Leslie roots through her oversized purse for a tissue (John liked to joke that she could carry a small child in it) and blows her nose. She wonders how long it’ll take before she doesn’t cry every time she thinks of John. She has a hunch it’ll be a long time.
Leslie ponders what she’s learned from Prosecutor Erickson. If he is to be believed—and, she does believe him—he loved Amy. He is devastated by her death, and he feels guilty because he knows that he’s the kind of man who will always put his career and social standing before his personal happiness. Whatever he feels for his wife, it’s nothing compared to what he felt—what he still feels—for Amy. Leslie had been prepared to hate this man when she first talked to him, and oddly enough, she ended up feeling sorry for him instead. He is a decent man trying to do the right thing; he just can’t be the man he wants to be. Leslie pushes that aside to concentrate on the salient point of the conversation—he has no alibi for the time of Amy’s death. This means he’s still on the suspect list, though Leslie doesn’t think he killed Amy. Still, she can’t let emotion cloud her judgment, so she keeps him on the list for now. She finds herself hoping she can find information that will exonerate him.
Michael tried. He really did. He knew that he was in danger of doing something really stupid, so he began making excuses as to why he could not go to Tina’s family for dinner. He had too much work. He was too tired. He had a migraine. Tina started complaining after the third time he skipped out, but he couldn’t afford to see Amy again. So, even though it displeased Tina, he continued to make his excuses. One day, however, he and Tina got in a huge fight on the very subject.